Lily's Scream
by Draco Cake
Summary: It's Halloween, 1981. Lily Potter is about to die.


_**A/N:**__ I th__ought of this one randomly one night. I had a bit of trouble in the beginning but after that it just flowed out naturally. I wanted to portray the story of the tragic Halloween n__ight through the Lily's eyes. I know that in the movie there was this whole dramatic part with Lily going, "Mama loves you, Dada loves you" to Harry, but that doesn't at all fit with what the book said. I prefer to use that version, because the movies are __really pathetic and don't correspond with each other. Please tell me what you think! And be merciful, okay? I'm no J.K. Rowling!_

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><p>I was so happy. We were so happy. Who would have guessed Peter couldn't be trusted? Who could have dreamed that this perfect evening could have ended this way?<p>

Happiness doesn't last. Deep inside, I think James and I both knew this but didn't want to face it. We knew we couldn't stay shut up here forever. Something would have to change. We couldn't just raise Harry forever in seclusion, at home for his entire life. I wanted him to go to Hogwarts, have friends, to be normal.

I wanted to take him to Ollivander's, to see his face when his wand chose him. I wanted to see him pick out his first broomstick; maybe become Seeker for his House. I wanted him to see Diagon Alley and all it held, Hogsmeade, and possibly even the Quidditch World Cup.

Molly Weasley had just had a child too; a boy named Ronald. The moment I saw him, I felt a little thrill; I just _knew_ he and Harry would be best friends. I envied Molly's position._ Her _son didn't have to grow up at home._ He _could be normal. Voldemort wasn't _specifically_ looking for her family. She didn't have to hide. Voldemort didn't have a clue weather they were with him or against him, and he wasn't going to kill them without checking. They were valuable purebloods.

James and I had escaped the Death Eaters three times; the third time, they had been headed by Voldemort himself, and I had been labouring. How sad would it have been if Voldemort had killed my son just as he'd came into life? But Frank and Alice Longbottom had arrived just in time. Frank and James distracted the Death Eaters while Alice and I made our getaway.

Giving birth is a hundred times harder if you have no idea where the love of your life is, or if he's dead or alive, or what the Death Eaters might be doing to him that moment, and you not there to give your life instead. Visions of the Cruciatus Curse shot through my head, helped on by the labour pains. Luckily, both James and Frank survived the attack.

A few days later, Alice had a son, Neville. I added him to my mental list of friends for Harry. I also kept the weather eye out for potential wives for him. Indira Patil had just had twin girls. Cute as buttons, both of them, but I didn't get the feeling, like, "This's the one!" when I held either of them. But I reserved them for my baby anyway. I need hope, you see…

Harry is a year old now and flying around on a toy broomstick, pleased as punch. It was a real struggle to get him off of it. He finally consented when James began puffing clouds of coloured smoke out of his wand to amuse him. He kept trying to grab the clouds, squealing in frustration when his chubby fist closed on thin air, again and again.

I walked into the room. "Harry, dear, time for bed," I spoke cautiously, hoping to avoid a temper tantrum. I needn't have worried.

"Yeth! Bed!" he yelled. "No colowy puff! Bad colowy puff! BED! AWAY!"

Harry had grown to the stage where he thought he was the king of the world and whatever was annoying him at the moment would be punished by him turning his back on it. I collected him without trouble. James flopped down onto the sofa, throwing down his wand. I felt a little uncomfortable shiver deep in my stomach…but I quickly pushed it away. James trusted Peter, so I did too. Peter would never betray us. We were safe.

As I walked down the hallway carrying Harry, I thought I heard the gate creak. I paused, but the sound didn't come again. My heart was beating fast, hard, almost painfully. I held my breath. There was still no sound. Slowly I unfroze. I laughed at myself. I was so silly! I'd seen the level of trust James put in Peter. No one would betray a trust as deep as that. I continued down the hallway.

Yet I could not shake off a cold, dread weight in the pit of my stomach. A weight that spoke of death. Pain. Betrayal. Regret. Sorrow. Darkness. There was a deep, festering evil that opened its fanged, bottomless maw to swallow whole all that it wanted, and more, for no sake at all, and it was out there, hunting us.

I was nearly at the stairs when I heard the crash. I turned to investigate, and heard James. "Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!"

I heard a high-pitched, evil laughter, a yell, and the end of the hallway flashed green. There was a thud. In that instant, I knew. All my suspicions about Peter, that had lain half-asleep, awoke. He had betrayed us. Sirius had been wrong. Voldemort was here. James was dead.

Harry.

All of the sudden, an inexplicable power took hold of me. Electricity shot through my veins. Adrenaline gripped my limbs. The power to run a thousand miles, jump a thousand hurdles, swim a sea of icy water consumed me. Voldemort would not hurt my son. My precious Harrybear, my darling Sugarplum, my beloved Squishy Bunny's Mumsies would not fail him. I sprinted up the stairs.

Had I been thinking clearly, I might have survived. Had my senses not been smothered by sheer rage at Voldemort's utter presumption, I might have lived. Instead, rational thought abandoned, I flew up the stairs, down the hallway, past the bathroom, into the bedroom. I shut the door. Still clutching Harry, I seized anything I could find and piled it against the door. There! No one could hope to push through that! Then I remembered.

Wand.

Voldemort had a wand, and I didn't have mine.

And with that thought, the power left me. The electricity drained from my veins. The adrenaline abandoned my limbs. I was filled with fear and mind-numbing terror. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't think. I was paralyzed, immobile. Then the door was blasted open.

I ran to Harry's crib and put him down in it. I turned around and desperately stretched my arms out to shield him. Voldemort was dressed in black robes, hood up to cover his face. A bone-white hand came out of the folds of the robe, holding a sinister-looking wand.

I had never begged before in my entire life. I never had any need to. But now, in an instant, everything changed.

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!" I screamed, tears streaming down my cheeks.

He laughed. "Stand aside, you silly girl…stand aside, now…"

"Not Harry!" I sobbed. "Please no, take me, kill me instead—"

"This is my last warning—"

"Not Harry!" I was shrieking desperately now. "Please…have mercy…have mercy…not Harry! Not Harry! Please—I'll do anything—"

"Stand aside—stand aside, girl—"

Stand aside? Stand aside and let him kill my baby, my darling, my only child? I will not. He raised his wand, having lost patience.

"Avada Kedavra!"

I saw the flash of green light, and felt a heavy weight hit me, directly over my heart.

I screamed. It didn't hurt. It was just a weight. No, I screamed partly out of rage, partly from fear, and partly from grief.

Who would protect Harry now? My darling Harry…

The light faded.


End file.
